


International Diplomacy for the Politically Incorrect

by seatbeltdrivein



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-04
Updated: 2010-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-13 12:35:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/137408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seatbeltdrivein/pseuds/seatbeltdrivein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy's tour in Xing is off to a poor start. [Post-manga, written for week 79 at fma_fic_contest]</p>
            </blockquote>





	International Diplomacy for the Politically Incorrect

_Diplomacy_ , Roy thought desperately. One didn't become fuhrer without sacrifices, but _this_ —

The fly sat on his cup's rim, an unassuming menace. The vein under Roy's eye spasmed.

"Is something wrong with the tea, Sir?" The translator's beady eyes darted to the Xingian ambassador.

"No." The fly stared at Roy. Roy stared back.

The ambassador shifted and spoke to the translator, who gulped audibly. "Sir," he tried again, "you're insulting him."

Roy could wave his hand and shoo the vile plague-carrying thing, but a vague memory about the evils of unnecessary hand gestures lingered in the back of his mind, of wars started over nothing and—just… no.

 _Disease!_ his mind shrieked. _Your tongue will swell! Your dick will shrivel up!_

The ambassador spoke again. The translator whimpered. For Amestris, Roy closed his eyes, grabbed the glass, and swallowed. The atmosphere lightened immediately. Giving himself a mental pat on the back for his resilience, Roy assured himself that it would be over soon. There had to be some sort of oral antiseptic somewhere in the godforsaken nation and Roy _would_ find it, goddamnit.

The ambassador looked pleased and spoke again to the translator, who turned to Roy, visibly relieved. "Sir, he's asked you to try a bun." A plate was offered, and Roy reached—

The fly sat in the center of the proffered bun, an unassuming menace. Roy stared at it. It stared back. Next to him, the translator fidgeted.

It was going to be a long tour.


End file.
